


Stories they tell

by nava



Series: falling and fumbling [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Sassy relationship, smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nava/pseuds/nava
Summary: “What have you heard about me?”  “Mostly that you’re very...tall.”  Story of her life. That, at least, hadn’t changed.





	

Loranil was a good kid, eager to help the cause, and he seemed to hold her in high regard. In part, he seemed completely mystified that she was so tall. Mostly, he was just happy to be doing something to help. She imagined he was excited to get away from the prying eyes of his clan as well. She’d felt the same when she’d been younger in her kith. 

 

Now, she mostly just wanted to gorge herself on kitchen sweets and tea in front of a fire with her head on Solas’s lap. She suspected this had more to do with the want for a stationary life rather than any actual maturity on her part. The Exalted Plains were full of stragglers from the “Free Army”, demons, and in general had very dry weather she found disagreeable. 

 

Loranil bounced around asking questions the entire time they were rooting out the Free Army bastards and other miscellaneous things that popped up. He went to her, to Iron Bull, to Solas, to Varric and cycled around again. She answered his questions for the most part while she squinted in the sun for a magical golden halla. She had no idea if it was actually magical, but she assumed it was. She’d be a bit disappointed if it wasn’t. 

 

“So.” Loranil asked Iron Bull in a casual way that wasn’t really casual at all. “How long have you and the Inquisitor been together?” 

 

The group stopped and Herah froze from her place where she’d started climbing over rocks to get to high ground to scout. 

 

“Um. What?” She asked, turning her head to look at the lad. 

 

He held up his hands. “Oh, it’s just...everyone’s heard of you having a lover, but no one really knows much about him. And I thought it would be...nice to know?” He finished uncertainly. 

 

Herah blinked. Iron Bull’s shoulders began shaking and then he laughed. Solas rolled his eyes so hard she thought they might fall out of his ears like marbles. 

 

“Actually kiddo, her ah “lover” or “beau” is this lucky elf.” Varric waved his hands at Solas as if he was showing off a unique, antique chair. 

 

Loranil looked at Solas and then seemed to peer around him for a moment as if expecting someone else to be cowering behind him. “Oh.” He tilted his head and sized Solas up before his gaze wandered back over to Herah. “Oh. How do you. I mean. It’s just that - well - she’s  _ very  _ tall.” 

 

“I do not believe that is any of your concern.” Solas snapped. 

 

Loranil fell silent. He still cast surreptitious glances between the two of them, clearly trying to puzzle it out. 

 

“Stop.” Solas warned once. Loranil’s gaze dropped to the ground. 

 

“This topic will never get old.” Iron Bull chuckled. 

 

Varric shuffled over to Loranil and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about making it weird. They deal with weirder all the time.” 

 

Herah glared at Loranil, then Iron Bull, then Varric, and tried to look at Solas, but felt a blush paint a stripe over her face so she looked somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. 

 

They caught the halla shortly after, although Loranil chose to stare at the ground whenever Solas or Herah stood near each other or spoke to one another. 

 

“Well, now he made it weird.” Varric sighed. 

 

…

 

“It’s like that’s all anyone ever hears about. And they all assume I’m sleeping with Bull. And it’s always in front of you.” Herah complained, sluicing water from the tub over her shoulders. “‘The Inquisitor is really tall.’ ‘The Inquisitor has a lover.’ ‘The Inquisitor is qunari, so obviously she’s sleeping with the other qunari.’ ‘I wonder how she fits in the loo?’ Not very well. It’s cramped.” She scrubbed at her elbow harder. 

 

From across her bedroom, Solas turned a page and watched her over the rim of the book. “I thought you said such talk has stopped bothering you?.” 

 

She sighed and leaned back in the tub, scrunching her knees under her chin. “It doesn’t. Usually. Well, no, that’s a lie.” She rolled her neck to look at him. “You get annoyed by it too.” 

 

“I do, on occasion.” He admitted reluctantly, marking his place in the book and setting it aside. 

 

“It’s a bit like...we’re some puzzle they have to figure out what goes where, how it fits. If it fits well.” She tapped her nails on the rim of the bathtub. “It’s not that hard.” 

 

Solas gave her a fond, amused look. “You do remember our first time in your bed?” He nodded toward the object in question. “You tore the drapes off. And we ruined the sheets, not to mention part of the headboard came off.” 

 

“Happy accidents. Mostly.” Herah waved it off. “If I was an elf, people wouldn’t look twice. Or if you were qunari. Not that I want that, I want you for you - I just get tired of dealing with the questions and trying to justify it.” 

 

“People are always hesitant about new things or what they don’t understand.” Solas said, rising from his spot to slink down on a stool behind her, hands pressing at the knots at her shoulders. She groaned and leaned forward. 

 

“Well they could stop asking like they expect me to say how unsatisfying the sex is.” His thumb roamed over a tight knot and rubbed it, skin and magic warming the spot. “If Josie wouldn’t literally kill me over it, I’d just tell them that more often than not, I can’t walk straight the next day.” Solas’ thumb stopped rubbing circles and his forehead touched the back of her neck. She felt him shaking. “Oh stop laughing at me. Dorian, that ass, pointed it out that one time during Wicked Grace when I wasn’t sitting right. Completely your fault. Instead, I get all the jokes and you just get a pat on the back.” 

 

She sank lower in the tub. 

 

“My apologies.” Solas said, not even close to being sincere. 

 

She squinted. “But not really.” 

 

“No.”  

 

“Ass.” 

 

Solas laughed at her. She forgave him after he worked out the knots. 

 

…

 

“Inquiring minds, Inquisitor.” Dorian called from overhead. 

 

Herah looked up from the couch to the stairs where she could see Dorian looking down at her with a book in his hand. “Inquiring minds that want to talk about fire magic and how to appropriately load a trap-glyph? Or maybe a certain altus would like some pointers on the finer aspects of storm magic?” She asked back teasingly, putting her book away. 

 

“Actually, as hilarious as both of those statements are, I was hoping  _ your  _ inquiring mind would tell  _ my  _ inquiring mind about your whirlwind hobo romance.” He ran a careful fingertip over his mustache. 

 

“Hobo romance?” She asked, somewhat offended. Solas wasn’t perhaps the...flashiest dresser, but she never thought he looked like a hobo. More like a...well worn traveler. An adventurer? Who had yet to find any fortune.

 

“Or whatever.” Dorian said graciously. 

 

“Well, we talk about books a lot.” Herah wouldn’t mind answering this. It was better than the constant “but how do you  _ do  _ it?” question they were asked constantly, as if surrounded by teenagers. “And spellwork of course. That man knows too much about it - he corrects nearly all the books I’ve come across and whenever he shows me something and I try it, it always turns out much better. We talk about the Fade too. About what it’s like being a vashoth, and he has all these stories about the ancient elves and Arlathan…” She trailed off at Dorian’s glazed over look. “Oh I’m sorry, am I boring you with my love life?” 

 

“Terribly, my dear.” He gave a long suffering sigh. “I’m asking what you two talk about when you’re all alone and have the benefit of actual privacy.”

 

She blinked. “That is what we talk about.” Which was mostly true, except for the times she liked complaining about everything, or when Solas would get frustrated by something. She did enjoy it when he was frustrated. His voice changed and he was more expressive about it than she would have ever guessed if they weren’t a couple. 

 

There was a lot of teasing with shared laughter, a bit of fun between the two of them and a mostly witty, just a little dirty, bit of repartee that was never shared except for some days out on the road with the rest of the group trailing behind. 

 

And then were quiet, long moments of tenderness where they didn’t speak. Solas would usually like to groom her in some fashion - a kind of affection she’d never witnessed in her previous partners, and one she thought might be dated in comparison to the other couples - other elves - but one she vastly appreciated. Combing her hair, washing her back, and even caring for her horns when the mood struck her to sand them and oil them properly. It would’ve felt one-sided, except he initiated it and seemed content as a cat with cream after it was done. A kind of intimacy she tried, in her very obvious way, to reciprocate by collecting books and artwork to give him, or by rubbing his feet. She wasn’t as talented at it as he was, but he seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. 

 

Undisclosed moments of her life that would hopefully remain that way. 

 

“Ah. I see.” Dorian looked on her fondly. “Well that’s good.” 

 

“I didn’t say anything.” She hoped she didn’t say anything aloud. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d done that. 

 

“No, no. But I could see it on your face. All gooey and doe-eyed, starstruck, lovesick! I could go on but it’s making me ill.” He patted the railing. “I am happy for you. Some of us were...concerned. Solas is a wanderer, after all. But with that look…. and do you know, I asked him the most fascinating question the other day.” Herah raised an eyebrow. “I asked him if you made him happy.” 

 

Herah cleared her throat when Dorian didn’t go on. “And?” 

 

“He looked misty-eyed for a moment, and it was like he wasn’t even in the room. I’ve seen him remain nonplussed towards many things, but you throw him for a loop. He said yes, but it was with much more prose and sounded rather poetic. I don’t know exactly what he said since I sort of drifted off, but it sounded terribly romantic.” Dorian looked over his shoulder. “And I do love our talks, but study calls me. I am happy for you, dearest.” 

 

\---

 

There was a bit of color on his scalp. The barest tinge of ginger, although it was smooth and reflective as ever. She ran a hand over it several times to see if there wasn’t a bit of his hair coming in. Maybe it was magic that prevented his hair from regrowing. She wondered if it was curly - she couldn’t really imagine him with curly hair, but something long, tied precariously with several tails. Darker than a fiery ginger like Leliana. More auburn? She could see that. Particularly his youthful “hot headed-self”. 

 

“I regret to inform you that it isn’t a crystal ball and rubbing my skull will not show you the future.” He remarked down below, head pillowed back against her bosom. He turned a page of the text he was reading. 

 

Herah hummed. “That’s unfortunate. I was hoping for an easy fix out of whatever court intrigue Vivienne and Josephine conspired to plop on my doorstep.” 

 

“They’re Orlesian. There is none. It will likely require several bribes, an appearance or a feast, veiled threats, high tension sex and at least one person will die.” He fished out a quill and wrote on the book. 

 

Herah rolled this over in her mind. “But will I be having the high tension sex or am I going to be doing all of the other things that sound far less fun?” 

 

Solas’ lips twitched upward. “Likely all the things no one else will do.” 

 

She curled over him and rested her chin atop his head. “I never have fun.” 

 

“I’m sorry I’m such a chore.” He drawled. 

 

“Well, you’re the sort of fun I love having. I just don’t get to very often. Meetings, danger across the sea, dragons, venatori, ancient darkspawn magister attempting to take over the world. Not to mention being the equivalent of a wiper for Orlais. I deserve a holiday. At least a week.” She scowled. “When I was a mercenary, I could set my own prices, I took holidays, you know that? I went places. Those places were mostly bed and breakfasts that served qunari and a lot of food but I was never expected to make time for a side venture. And you know, I don’t think the Inquisition actually pays me anything. I suppose they do other things instead; free food, a place to sleep, clothes and weapons. That probably evens out. Still haven’t gotten a day to myself. They owe me loads of holidays.” 

 

Solas hummed to show he was listening. 

 

“Just a week to sort of relax and cool off. Pretend I’m not doing things that I mostly have to wing and sell to the world, and maybe find a tub that could properly fit me. One that isn’t actually a hot spring or a pond. And cake. A lot of chocolate cake and tea. And you. But you’d be naked. And reading to me in elvish.” Herah kept up her stream of consciousness. “And doing other things naked. But not meditating, I hate when you do that. You don’t let me participate.” 

 

Fingers at her cheek and jaw made her stop. Solas moved away from her to kneel between her legs and he brought his mouth to hers. He bit her bottom lip gently, tugging it before focusing on her top lip and sealing their mouths together. She slowly slumped against the sofa, dragged down, while Solas arched over her, hand playing with the hem of her shirt. 

 

“You can’t take a holiday, vhe’nan.” He said quietly in her ear. “The world will likely set itself on fire.” 

 

“Don’t be that way, we’ll put it out later. We deserve a holiday.” 

 

“Ah. Now it’s we?” Solas tugged at the collar of her shirt with his teeth and began unbuttoning it. 

 

“In order for my holiday to be a holiday, of course you’d have to be there.” She breathed, watching him with wide eyes. 

 

“Naked.” He assumed. 

 

“Naked.” She confirmed.

 

He hummed, dropped lower after he unbuttoned her top, to drag his lips between her breasts, over the dip of her ribs and navel, he untied the laces of her breeches. He pushed her breeches away, mouth hovering just over her pubic bone and with his teeth, he tugged her smallclothes off. 

 

“Naked.” She breathed. 

 

He laved at her hip and the soft skin of her inner thigh. He suckled gently, sweetly, one hand skittering up over the sweep of her waist and he ran a thumb across her nipple. One leg, freed of any clothing, lifted and laid over his shoulder. Her heel dug in to his back, toes curling into his flesh. 

 

His other hand swept fingers along the inside of her knee and adjusted the way her leg laid over him. His hands kneaded her skin and his mouth pressed everywhere but where she wanted it. She rolled her hips, carefully not to force herself on his face. He nipped her thigh in response and it made her giggle. 

 

He began moving away. “The door is unlocked. One moment.” 

 

“Nnggh.” With long legs, she trapped him. “Leave it. Leave it. It’s fine. It’s fine. Just don’t stop you’re a terrible man. A tease. Awful person.” 

 

He glanced at the door briefly before settling back between her legs. When his mouth touched her, she was surprised at the heat of it and let out a loud sigh. Lips slick and wanting, clenching for want of something more substantial, her body knew him well enough that she didn’t need much foreplay - spoiled enough by him that she’d get what she wanted, he’d give her what she needed - but he still enjoyed taking his time. 

 

His tongue traversed the center of the seam, teasing and tender, and he breathed against her. Heated breath washed over her and she gasped, twitching away but her hips were held down by his hands. 

 

“Don’t move overmuch.” He whispered as if it were a secret to be kept between them, mouth moving against her in tandem with his speech. She shuddered and her eyes rolled. “We’ll have to be quiet. The door isn’t locked.” 

 

“Stop...stop talking. Just...shhhh…” Her hips tried in vain to roll, closer or further from him, she wasn’t sure. 

 

He laughed and the low sound and the vibrations of his throat and chest rumbled through her thighs and made her shake. 

 

He kissed her, the slick of her making it messier for him. He murmured more things against her flesh, she felt his tongue and mouth move, the tones of him moving his throat, and her heel dug deeper into his back. Her moan was a high, soft whine; a sound she would never have known or recognized had she never fallen into this strange waltz with him. 

 

Her finish was spectacular; it was slow and sweet and though he teased, it wasn’t overwhelming. It was a soft thing. Like falling into a soft bed with blankets after a long day. 

 

Solas bit her hip sharply and climbed up to her, dragging his mouth along her skin. 

 

He arched over her, her thigh still slung over his shoulder in a way that stretched her leg with a slight ache. He looked down at her with the barest hint of a smile. 

 

Herah reached up and kissed him, tasted herself and didn’t hate it. Solas shifted in place and she felt the head of him spreading her. 

 

He entered slowly, head lower than hers but it bothered her less than it had in the beginning. He could reach her face if she curled up and he stretched. He tilted his head to take a dark nipple in his mouth and suckle, thrusting languidly while Herah bit into the roughened edges of a decorative cushion. 

 

He sighed and sped up, switching to her other breast, running his tongue over the soft skin over her breast and setting his teeth lightly against its swell. 

 

Her chest bounced when his pace increased and the slick noise of his thighs sliding and hitting her backside, the sound of heavy breathing, filled the room, the elegant sofa creaked beneath their weight and movement, clawed feet reluctantly scraping against stone. 

 

Her second orgasm surprised her in its suddenness, the same way someone walking in the dark expects another step but there is none, and she ran shortened nails across his back, thigh clenching hard over his shoulder. 

 

He hissed an elvish oath and dropped his forehead to her breast. His breath washed over her and she sighed, still riding out her aftershocks, body twinging. 

 

His release came shortly, silent but affectionate and she felt the heat of him spread inside. 

 

He relaxed over her, eased her thigh off his shoulder, rubbing it and relaxing on her. 

 

She adjusted and spread her legs, clasped over his hips and allowed him to settle in her, remaining that way while he used her body as a resting place. 

 

She ran her fingers along the shell of his ears and he let out a contented noise. “Not really a vacation.” She said to the top of his head, but there was no heat or sass in her tone. She is an amorphous creature now, without bones or worries or thoughts, she is loose and full, skin slick with her sweat and his and body cocooning his. 

 

“This is the best I can do for you I’m afraid.” His voice is somewhat muffled in her flesh, lips moving against her breast pleasantly although she lacks the energy for it to resonate in arousal. 

 

Herah ran her fingers over his ears, his jaw, and the back of his neck. 

 

“I can’t complain. You got naked.” She pointed out absently. 

 

He huffed in laughter. 


End file.
